


cherry lemonade

by heartburns



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Best Friends, Childhood Innocence, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oneshot, Treehouses, but lowkey, pure fluff, this is really cute n sweet i promise, two soft confused lgbt boys growing up in the nineties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartburns/pseuds/heartburns
Summary: “You ever kiss a boy before, Eds?” Richie asked, infuriatingly nonchalant, like he was wondering what Eddie’s favorite color was or how he liked his eggs cooked in the morning. Oh, shit.





	cherry lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> hello this literally almost an exact fucking carbon copy of my first reddie oneshot (go check it out, it’s called _hidden stars, hidden feelings_!), but it’s my birthday week so i can do whatever the fuck i want, thanks!
> 
> as always, have fun and enjoy!

The first time it had happened was in the fall of ninety-one.

“You ever kiss a boy before, Eds?” Richie asked, infuriatingly nonchalant, like he was wondering what Eddie’s favorite color was or how he liked his eggs cooked in the morning.

Eddie froze. “What?” Swallowed. “No.”

“Me neither,” Richie said, arms folded across his chest. He was lying next to him on Eddie’s bed, his eyes trained on the ceiling through his coke-bottle glasses. He was peering at the little glowing stars he and Eddie had stuck up there when they were seven. “Wonder what it would be like.”

Eddie didn’t dare move. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Richie sat up abruptly. “Have you ever wondered? Y’know, what it would be like to kiss a boy?”

 _Yes. You_. “I, um — I dunno.”

Richie went silent, twiddling with his thumbs and folding his legs on the comforter, criss-cross-applesauce. Eddie entertained himself by studying the way a single blade on the fan would slow down if you looked at it hard enough. To his annoyance, it made a little clicking noise each time it went around, swooshing the stuffy air around in the thick summer heat without much effect. But it was kind of nice like that, and Eddie was even beginning to hope the subject had been dropped until Richie opened his big mouth again and it all went to hell.

“Wanna try it?”

“ _What_?” That made Eddie sit up _fast_.

Richie held his hands up in some kind of surrender. “Whoa there, Eds. It’s just a question.”

“I…” Eddie stared at his shoes. They were red Converse, a little scuffed at the edges from riding his bike but otherwise impeccably spotless. As he sat there inspecting them, he decided he must have the cleanest Converse in all of Derry.

“You know what? Just forget about it,” Richie said, waving his hand and releasing a loud huff. “It’s fine. It’s not important. It’s not like I’m gay or anything, anyways, so. Forget I even asked.”

Richie had always been good at pulling off nonchalance. He didn’t let anyone catch him with his heart on his sleeve, lest he expose _actual emotions_ , but Eddie couldn’t help but detect the way his eyes glistened, just for that split second, with something like disappointment.

Eddie seemed to finally find his voice. “No.” At that, Richie peered at him, eyes big and brown and soft behind those stupid glasses, and God help him — “I want to.”

“Really?” Richie’s grin was boyish and lopsided, making Eddie’s heart do little flips in his ribcage.

“Yeah. I, ah — I wanna know, too. But, like, I’m not gay either. Just, y’know, wondering how it’s like. Why not?”

“Okay,” Richie whispered, and he didn’t give it a single second. He leaned in fast, squeezing his eyes shut and puckering his lips ever so slightly.

Eddie pushed him away before he could even get close. “No!” he squeaked, wide-eyed. “I am not having my first kiss with you in my room, on my _bed_. I’ll never be able to sleep again.”

It didn’t even occur to Eddie the secret he’d let slip past his lips until Richie smirked that blood-boiling little smirk of his. “Your first kiss?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now his face was really red. “Um, I meant…”

He sighed. He’d already admitted it, so there was no point in denying it now. He just had to suck it up and wait for Richie to rip him to pieces; he’d just provided some excellent material, after all.

But all Richie said was, “Mine, too.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. Besides your mom, though, obviously.”

This set Eddie straight again, and he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Trashmouth. We’re finding somewhere better to do this.”

“Aye-aye,” said Richie in his terrible rendition of a pirate. “Lead the way, Cap’n Kaspbrak. Thar she blows!”

Eddie ignored that. He instead glanced at the door to every single room as he guided them around the house, searching for a suitable first-kiss spot. “Bathroom?” Richie proposed just as Eddie tugged him farther down the hall past it.

“ _God_ ,” Eddie gagged, scrunching up his nose. “I can’t even believe you just fucking suggested that. It’s like you don’t even know me at all.”

Richie shrugged, as unbothered with this as he seemed to be with anything else. “What’s the big deal, Spaghetti Man? S’just a bathroom.”

“ _What’s the big deal_?” Eddie mocked. “Oh, I don’t know, Richie. Maybe that it’s chock-full of nasty fucking germs everywhere. I mean, the toilet seat alone has, like, more than three billion bacteria per square inch, just think…”

“Wow, now you really sound like Sonia. Not that I’m complaining, though,” Richie interjects. “It totally turns me on; that’s our pillow talk. After I’m done boning her, she drones on and on about all those sexy germ stats. It really gets me going now, so —“

“ _Richie_! Jesus. Fuck off about my mom already. I swear, you’re even grosser than a toilet seat sometimes.”

“That’s so unfair,” he whined, and Eddie pulled him harshly farther along by his hand.

They got all the way to the kitchen before Richie made another repulsive comment. “How about the pantry? We can make out next to some Frosted Flakes. That’d be pretty hot.”

“First of all,” said Eddie, starting daggers, “we are _not_ making out, like, at all, period. Second of all, we don’t have any Frosted Flakes; my mom won’t buy them, and believe me, I’ve already tried. Last of all, can you please at least try to take this somewhat seriously?”

Richie’s nose twitched with amusement. “You’ve met me before, right, Eds?”

“Touché.” He rubbed his temples and scanned his surroundings for the thousandth time today. The kitchen was the last room in the house, and if he couldn’t find a good place now, he might never get to kiss Richie, and that would be a hell of a bummer. If there was just some place… 

“The treehouse!”

Richie surprised both Eddie and himself when he blurted it out. Eddie grinned wide, and if he didn’t know any better, Richie’d say it looked mischievous. Spontaneous, even. But while Richie couldn’t remember what twelve times seven is, he could without-a-doubt comprehend that _spontaneous_ wasn’t a word in Eddie Kaspbrak’s ever-extensive vocabulary.

“That’s not a half-bad idea,” Eddie began slowly, cautiously eyeing the big maple in the backyard.

Richie tapped his foot, impatience rapidly replacing his indifferent façade. “Well, what in the fuck are we waiting for, then? C’mon!”

And then it was Richie’s turn to grab Eddie’s hand, pulling him along to adventure just like the time in second grade when Eddie had been scared shitless to jump off the ten-foot diving board, and Richie had tugged him onward and eventually pushed him into the water. He’d been a real piss-baby about it for about five minutes before Richie had bought him a cherry-lemonade-flavored ice pop and then all was forgiven.

“Slow your fucking role!” Eddie screeched as he was being wrenched along by Richie to the tree. “I’ll break my arm again if you yank me any harder, and then you’ll really be sorry. My mom will ground me forever, and you won’t even get a kiss.”

All Richie gave was a half-assed, “Boo-hoo”. His mind was clearly elsewhere, but it wasn’t like that was unusual for him as of late.

The two boys scrambled up the wooden ladder, and Richie threw up the hatch with some minor difficulty; the door hadn’t been used in years, after all. Eddie coughed lightly at the thin layer dust that had settled like a blanket over the floor. Richie brushed it off for him, and they sat criss-cross-applesauce on the cleared space just like they had earlier on the bed.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “We’re really doing this?”

Eddie scoffed. “Whaddya think we came all the way up here for?”

“I know, I know. I just… are you, like, sure about this or whatever?”

“I don’t know, are _you_ sure about this, Rich? You’re looking pretty tense there.” Eddie’s smile was smug, delighting in the way he was making Richie squirm.

“Of course! I mean, I was the one who suggested it. So I’m just checking in to see if you feel pressured or anything, because you know you don’t have to…”

“Richie, calm down. You’re stalling. Are you actually okay with this and everything?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Richie tried to say, wanting nothing more than to slap himself in the face, but then worst thing that could’ve happened, happened: his voice cracked on the last syllable.

He festered there in silent, agonizing misery until Eddie was done laughing at him. It lasted probably ten seconds, but it felt like ten years. Fuck everything and everyone who ever led him to this moment in time. Fuck his mom for giving birth to him, and fuck Eddie for laughing at him (even though it was actually pretty funny and he definitely would’ve done the same thing had their roles been reversed). But, yeah, fuck him anyway. Fuck puberty most of all, though, and double-fuck Planet Earth for giving it to him.

“Can you please shut the hell up?” Richie huffed dramatically, blowing a curl away from his face in the process.

Eddie stopped laughing, but his coy smile remained. “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

“You were gonna kiss me, remember that, asshole?” His face was set aflame, admittedly for more reasons than one.

“That’s weird. I recall that _you_ were gonna kiss _me_ first.”

“Seriously, Eds? Look at us, arguing before our first kiss,” Richie sighed, scooting nearer to him.

“This would’ve been a lot less awkward if we had just done it already, y’know,” Eddie whispered. Their faces inched closed and closer together, and when he sensed that silent electricity, he shakily, _daringly_ , reached up to remove Richie’s glasses. He folded them up and hooked them onto the front of his raggedy old Freese’s t-shirt, and Richie was sure not to move a muscle. “I don’t really know how to do this, ‘Chee.”

“Me neither,” Richie breathed, knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. “But I think you’re supposed to close your eyes first, you fucking weirdo.”

“Okay.”

They stared. Blinked. And then Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut, and Richie couldn’t see anything without his glasses but now it didn’t matter because he was cupping his best friend’s cheek with his hand and…

Neither of them knew what they were expecting, exactly. Richie concluded that Eddie’s lips were surprisingly soft, much more so than he anticipated, and he welcomed the feeling of them. Eddie smelled and tasted pleasantly of cherry lemonade; he must’ve had another one of those ice pops before they hung out, and the thought made Richie beam wide.

Eddie, on the other hand, deducted that he didn’t know if he liked kissing in a general sense or that he liked kissing boys or that he just liked kissing Richie. Maybe it was a combination of all three, but they made little butterflies flutter in his stomach and tiny stars dance behind his closed eyelids.

The kiss itself was gentle, chaste, soft. When they pulled apart, they wore a matching blush on their cheeks, and if either one picked up on the fact that maybe this wasn’t just for practice or experience or whatever else, neither of them mentioned it. They were only fourteen, after all, and that was a conversation for another day.

“Cherry lemonade,” Richie muttered off-handedly, sliding his glasses idly back onto the bridge of his nose.

Eddie grinned, albeit a bit stupidly. “I’ve got one left in the fridge. You want it?”

“Hell yes. Obviously.”

His smile then morphed into a devilish smirk, surprisingly Richie-like in its spritely nature. “Then you’re gonna have to beat me to it, Tozier.”

And they were just two boys again, chasing each other around the backyard in the summer heat, and Richie was calling out, “Hey, wait up, Eddie Spaghetti! I want a head start for being your first smooch!” after Eddie. _His_ Eddie.

And okay, yeah. That happened. Eddie’d kissed Richie, Richie’d kissed Eddie. But they were still best friends, and no matter what came next, they would always remain so. That much they knew, and in their minds, that was all that mattered. They were together.


End file.
